


On a windy night in Kiel

by thebaddestwitch



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, DFB-Pokal, Fiction, Loss, M/M, Manu and his anger management issues, Neuller - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwitch/pseuds/thebaddestwitch
Summary: TW: accidental injury and blood
Relationships: Thomas Müller/Manuel Neuer
Kudos: 16





	On a windy night in Kiel

**Author's Note:**

> TW: accidental injury and blood

You have to show it on a windy night in Kiel and they haven’t. It sucks. It really fucking sucks, it’s getting under their skin as said wind does, chilling, numbing them to their core. Having more than a decade of experience behind their backs — some big losses too — doesn't help, not with this. If anything, getting older has just made it more obvious for them that there is no opportunity lost that you can just shrug at and think another one will surely present itself. Maybe it will, but there is an ever increasing chance that it won’t. It’s no help either that they can’t even spend the night in the comfort of their own home after this, it’s a boring ass hotel again and it’s cold and they are cold and bloody fucking exhausted too. 120 minutes for this, for worse than nothing, with another game coming up in 3 days. 

Manu and Thomas haven’t spoken a word since the break before the extra time, and the privacy of their room doesn’t change that. Manu occupies the bathroom almost immediately upon their return, while Thomas just lays on the bed, switching on the TV for some background noise. He zones out pretty quickly, falling into a shallow, restless sleep, and rouses only to the sound of things crashing in the bathroom - 5 or 50 minutes later, he couldn’t tell. Though somewhat disoriented, he jumps up immediately to the noise, knowing for sure it’s something to do with Manu. Luckily the bathroom door is left open, and he finds a distressed blonde with a dislocated bathroom shelf, a damaged mirror and some broken cream jars and flasks on the floor. Thomas steps in before Manu could pound down again with his bare fists, putting his body in between him and the wall.

“Babe, hey, stop it, shh,” he says, catching the blonde’s arms. Manu - this time - is not exactly happy to be held down, and his eyes shine with rage and tears. 

“Fucking let me,” Manu sobs as he figths back, while Thomas is trying to get him into a tight embrace somehow.

“Be fucking careful then,” Thomas struggles with him further, but his strength is not enough to keep a furious Manu back, and their fight ends with Thomas banging into the shower cabin, head first, and Manu slipping and falling to the ground. Thomas reaches to feel the back of his head expecting to see blood, based on the sound it made, but there is nothing apart from some warm tingling. Manu’s on his feet immediately too, checking in on him.

“I— I hurt you— Oh my god, I hurt you—,” he stutters in shock, because now there is blood, and quite a lot of it too.

“Manu, love, it’s you, it’s your arm,” Thomas realizes and grabs reflexively for a towel. Once that’s wrapped tightly around the wound, he gets another one, throws it on the broken stuff on the floor and tosses the pile into a corner with his leg. “Come on baby, sit down, keep this raised up, that’s it,” he says, guiding Manu to a safe spot, crouching down next to him with his heart beating in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Manu hiccups as tears run down his pale face. The windburn is still on his cheeks, but under that it’s now grey and hollow.

“You did nothing wrong, you didn’t mean to—” 

“Doesn’t matter what I’ve meant—

“To me it does,” Thomas replies and wants to squeeze Manu’s unharmed hand, but the blonde pulls it away, so they just sit there a bit, watching whether the towel bleeds through. “I’ll check what he have in the emergency kit here—” 

“It’s fine, it’s stopping, just give me any bandages you find, I can—” Manu says when Thomas returns with a little red box. Sure, he already wants control back, and let’s be honest, he probably does a better compression dressing with one hand than Thomas with two, but the wound looks a bit nastier than Thomas would like it to, and the kit only has a limited range of products to offer. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Toni for those zip-tie strips he has for cuts and don’t even try to stop me—”

Even though Thomas doesn’t intend to scare the living shit out of Toni, the latter arrives in no time, bare feet, half dressed. He doesn’t even say a word about anything he sees in the bathroom, though both Manu and Thomas can see the horror in his eyes. He just kneels down at Manu’s side and takes his arm in his hands, while Thomas is caressing the blonde’s back.

“Ok, ok, it’s not that deep and there’s nothing in it, thank god, these will do,” Toni says, cleaning the wound. 

“I said so,” Manu murmurs.

“You are not voting here, kid. Put your fingers here, Thomas, yes, like that,” Toni continues, putting on 3 small strips to hold the cut neatly and closely together, then covering it with fresh bandage. Once done, he crumbles down next to Manu and Thomas on the ground. “Damn I feel sick. Is there anything strong in the mini bar? I could use a shot—”

And so they end up having teeny-tiny bottles of whiskeys and vodkas sitting amid the ruins of a bathroom and some of their illusions too. There is no talking, still, but they all think of the same things somehow: the work ahead and that even though the scene looks as if someone was slaughtered in it, no one is actually hurt too bad, and if today’s luck had to be used for this, it’s kinda fine. Well, at least for Toni and Thomas it is. Once finished with his whiskey Toni staggers to his feet. 

“Thank you,” he tells Thomas in the door, “for caring for him— even more than I do.” 

“Not like I could let him bleed out here, could I? Imagine the press—” Thomas replies with a wry grin. “Kathleen would kill us. She’ll probably kill us as it is. ”

“Thomas. You know what I mean,” Toni says and hugs Thomas hard. It’s endearing and a bit weird, Thomas thinks, how his hug (and “Thomas”) is so alike Manu’s. These though buff boys from the Ruhr and their big fragile hearts. Brothers from another mother. And father. Toni’s kindness breaks him a bit though, or maybe it’s the evening overall, and he needs a few deep breaths before returning to Manu, who has started to restore the bathroom in the meanwhile.

“We’ll do that tomorrow, come to bed,” Thomas reaches for his waist. Manu flinches at the touch. Again. “Please. Just want to be close to you—”

“I’m ashamed, okay?” Manu sighs, but turns around to face Thomas. “Of this. Of pushing you. Of the game.”

“Okay, but I love you still,” Thomas says, then places a gentle peck onto Manu’s lips. “To bed. Now,” he adds, and Manu lets himself be led this time. Out of all things that hurt. If only for as long as the night lasts.


End file.
